How To Save A Life
by Operatic
Summary: What if April didn't go straight home after getting back her results? Oneshot


**((So this is pretty AU. And I don't own RENT. This was submitted at the writing challenge over at the RPG La Vie Boheme…it's not great, but eh. Gimme a break! I haven't written in a forever and a half.))**

She'd hardly even noticed as a bill was tossed onto the surface of her tub, but she was sure to call her thanks before Ms. or Mr. Mystery escaped off into the crowd of people. She hadn't even meant to look at the face of the bill. It was just something that caught her eye. And she immediately realized, though it was kind if it was intentional...nobody in their right mind would go slipping a street drummer a fifty dollar bill. And as nice as it would be to be fifty dollars richer, it simply wouldn't be fair.

"Excuse me!" she held the tub under her arm and the bill in her hand, her head turning from side to side as she tried to find who it had been. She remembered a shock of red hair, and that was all. And almost at the end of the block was a young woman without a coat and shaggy red hair and Angel ran faster.

"Excuse me, miss," she'd finally caught up and was slightly out of breath. The girl seemed to stiffen--she was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, was she cold? Or was it because the drummer's hand was on her shoulder?-and finally turned around.

Angel's breathed hitched a bit. She was no older than twenty, perhaps even younger, and Angel'd seen her before. She wasn't sure where...but there was something about her hair under the dusky streetlamps that made Angel stare, almost to the point of rudeness, before getting out a single, "Um, hi..."

--

It was the drummer. April could have laughed at the way he stared...she'd gotten that same look from a million other men, too many times to count. Though, she couldn't help but think that maybe, maybe he was different...

He was short, just barely taller than her. And thin. Not as thin as her...though she was aware that he was thin for an entirely different reason. The boy looked like he would eat, if he had the money to (but he didn't, she figured, which was why he was drumming on the street in the middle of November for god's sake) while she...she just hadn't felt like eating lately (not since she'd gotten the tests back and she wasn't about to tell that to a complete and total stranger.)

"Can I help you?" she asked finally, her voice monotone. She didn't have a whole lotta time left, and she wanted to get home so she could make it even shorter. The boy seemed confused, blinked a few times, like he was trying to get his train of thought back.

"Right," he said finally, and laughed softly. April regretted the fact that it had been awhile now since she'd heard laughter, even longer since she'd laughed herself. He quickly held his hand out to her, and she'd thought, 'Oh god, he wants to shake? I don't got time to be making friends," before she saw the bill between his fingers. "Listen, um...you gave this to me, and I can't help but wonder...well..." Spit it out, boy, I don't got forever. "This is a lot to be giving out, y'know? I totally get it if you made a mistake."

She rose a thin brow, looking from his hand to his eyes. He wanted to give it back? She'd made no mistake. But most people in this city would've taken the money and ran.

"Keep it, kid," she sighed, shaking her head. He was older than her. "You probably need it. Me, I got it to spare."

--

She cocked her head. The girl definitely didn't seem rich...she didn't even have a coat! How could she have it to spare?

"Well...thanks," Angel finished lamely. She began to chew on her lip again, contemplating asking, and as the girl turned to leave, she stopped her. She didn't know why...she just did. It was often for her to do things without thinking, anyway.

"What? Look, I gotta get going. I don't have forever left, I'm counting my minutes. Would you get your hand off my shoulder?" She took the Angel's hand (blue fingernails, the girl stared for a second) off her shoulder, and wrapped her arms around herself (for warmth or for protection? It wasn't completely clear) and the drummer saw her arms, the same gruesome lines as she saw on her best friend in the world. And it scared the hell out of her.

She girl looked at her arms, self-conscious? She placed her hands over the lines.  
"I hafta keep going. Look, keep the money, otherwise, it'll just get wasted, okay? I don't need it where I'm going. Don't ask for more, it's got somebody's name on it."

"Where are you going?"

--

April hadn't expected the question, and she didn't really want to answer.  
"Away," she answered vaguely.

"How far?"

"Far."

"Well, how far is far?" She couldn't believe how nosy the boy was. Had she given any indication she was going to tell him? What made him think she was about to give out her life story? It was the important people whose biographies got told, the people who worked for other people and not for their goddamn self, which is what she did. She worked for herself. And for him. Him. Fuck. How was she supposed to tell him what she'd gotten them into? It was a death sentence. She intended to make hers a little shorter, but she wasn't about to let him join her. Maybe it was selfish, wanting him to live for the end, while she took the cowards route. He still had to live.

"Away from you," she said softly, while she was really thinking, 'Away from Roger'. But she wasn't gonna say his name, no, maybe because she didn't want to get into it with a stranger (though, she was finding it less and less hard to talk to him, why?) and also, because it just hurt. She was gonna leave Mark and Collins and Maureen and Benny and, and, and him, and it hurt.

"Well honey, can you be a bit more specific?"

"No, I cannot be a bit more specific. Why do you even care? You don't know me."

"I'm Angel. Can I know you now?"

April stared incredulously. Was he always this odd? Did he always make try to friends right off the street? Nice as it was to have someone want to know her,  
"I don't have time to know people."

--

Angel raised a brow, placing a hand on her hip. She didn't have time? What was that supposed to mean?

"You don't have time? What, are you dyin' today, or something?"

The girl shook her head, closing her eyes and sighing.  
"Look, I don't wanna get into it."

Angel wasn't satisfied with her answer. But she couldn't help but think there was something she was forgetting...

"Dammit! Honey, I'd love to stay and chat, but I got Life Support to get to. Do you have the time?" She was all of the sudden in a rush, shoving the sticks in her tub (she didn't have time to change, but the members never minded her out of drag, and they were the few she could be out of drag in front of sometimes) and waved the bill in front of her again (girl shook her head no).

"Don't have the time...imagine it's close to nine. Life Support?" she raised an eyebrow, and Angel smiled. When she was first diagnosed, she was a little hesitant about telling people...hell, they'd be afraid to even touch her. But after a few meetings, it just...it made her realize not everyone was like that. And she was never one to assume the worst in people.

"It's for people with AIDS..." she explained, checking that her nails, at least, were just right. "People like me."

--

"It's for people like AIDS...people like me."

He...he had it? No, that couldn't be right. If he had it, he wouldn't be so happy, would he? She had it, and she wasn't...no, she already had a plan. She was going to die. And so was he...he must've known what an awful death he was gonna go through, right? He couldn't be that naive. How was he so happy, when she had the same disease he had and was about to kill herself?

"AIDS..." April repeated, trying to process it. "You have AIDS."

"I have AIDS, yes," he nodded, and she immediately asked.

"Then...how can you...why aren't you...aren't you scared?" she asked finally, her brow creasing. Why was he able to get past this, and she wasn't? What the hell was wrong with her?

"I was at first," he shrugged, and smiled at her...almost like he knew. Did he know? "Then I sorta got over it. We're not dead yet, right?" We're? "You wanna come with? You might like it. Oh, and it's not just for people with AIDS, you know," he added with a small smile. He didn't know. She didn't want him to know. Did she? "I mean, yeah, most of the members are HIV+ at the least...but it's really just about living. Cuz that's one thing we all got in common. We're all still alive. No point in wastin' that, is there?"

Living. She wasn't living. She was living when Roger was around, that, she knew. But the disease in her bloodstream was killing her...was killing both of them, actually. How can you be living when every day could be your last? Live every day as your last. It was an old saying, and April had never understood. They also always said, don't live in fear. But the thought of any day being her last seemed to scare the shit out of her.

"How did you, 'Sorta get over it'?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. Whatever he did...maybe she could do too...? It was worth a shot, right...?

"Life Support. They're great there. If it weren't for them...hell, I probably wouldn't even be alive today. You should come, chica."

One meeting wouldn't hurt. She couldn't see herself becoming as...well, perky as Angel...but it wouldn't hurt.

"Maybe..."

"Great!" the boy squealed. Definitely couldn't be that perky. "Come on, um..."

"April," she said finally, and Angel took her by the wrist. "My name's April."

"C'mon, April," and she was pulled towards the stairs of the nearest subway station before she had time to protest. Not that she would. Because, as it turned out...maybe she would have time to know each other. Maybe, maybe she wasn't leaving Roger quite yet. Maybe they'd even help her tell him...maybe that was the best fifty bucks she'd ever spent.


End file.
